


Girl's Got Rhythm

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demons, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: A demon shows up at the Bunker door with a proposition for Sam.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33
Collections: King of Hell Sam Winchester's Birthday Promptfic* Extravaganza!





	Girl's Got Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [AlleiraDayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne) in the [Antichristmas_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Antichristmas_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> After blocking the throne of Hell, Sam Winchester is the default King of Hell. Except he doesn't know it until a demon requests instructions from him. Dean finds this hilarious.

The first thump startled them both. Sam snapped his head up from his book and glared across the table at Dean's wide-eyed confusion, then followed his stare as he looked to the doorway. The second thump reverberated through the Bunker, faded as it reached the Kitchen where they sat eating breakfast, then fell silent once more. With the third echoing concussion, Sam and Dean leaped from their seats and bolted for the war room.

There they found nothing until a final resounding thump knocked on the Bunker doorway, its thunderous boom rumbling through the vaulted space for several seconds until it, too, faded.

“Someone is… knocking on the door," Dean stated.

Though it was not a question, Sam concurred. “I think so,” he started as he stepped towards the stairs.

“Don’t open it!”

Over his shoulder, Sam asked, “Why? What if someone needs help?”

Dean rolled his eyes harder than Sam had seen in months. “Who cares?! Nobody should know we’re in here!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

A single second seemed to stretch forever as they stared one another down until Sam bolted up the stairs. Dean chased after him, taking the steps two at a time, but Sam’s longer legs leaped three and even skipped the last four as he vaulted to the landing. With victory in reach, he grasped the cold iron handle of the door, but the moment he pulled, Dean barreled into him. Torn from the door, Sam struggled for the handle until Dean restrained him, arms entangled and boots scraping the floor.

Another resounding knock on the metal shook the foundation, and they froze in their awkward position. The thunderous echo rolled once more through the Bunker, then faded into silence, but Sam knew it was not over.

“They’re going to break the door down!” he spat from Dean's half-nelson headlock.

As he struggled, Dean replied, “Let them! Then we’ll have a reason to kill whoever it is!”

“I can hear you.”

The lilting alto of a woman penetrated the door and Sam stilled as Dean’s restraint loosened. “Did you hear that?”

After one lingering moment, Dean released him. “Yeah. Who’s there?!” he barked.

“My name is Adria. I am here to speak with Sam Winchester,” the muted voice said. “Is that you, Dean?” she asked.

“How do you know my name?!” he bellowed at the door. “Who the hell—”

Sam calmed him with a hand at his shoulder. “Can we just open the damn door? Please?”

Dean’s glare promised Sam hellfire and brimstone if shit went sideways. “Fine.”

He turned back to the door, trepidation numbing his fingers. One clarifying breath steeled his nerve. Someone just needed his help. She knew their names. They must have met before. Resolved, Sam shook free of his caution, grasped the handle of the door, and wrenched it open. In the dim portal light, a tall, dark-haired woman stood. She wore a faded NASA t-shirt tucked into the front of her jeans and a pair of tennis shoes. In the crook of her elbow she clutched a small, leather bound book against her chest, and on the other a yellow purse hung from its strap.

“What do you want?”

She did not simply ignore Dean’s belligerence. She acted as if he had not even spoken and looked directly at Sam. “How are you, my Lord?”

 _My lord._ He must have misheard her. “Ah… wha—” he cleared his throat, “What did you just call me?”

Her bright doe eyes shifted from him to Dean and back before she said, “My Lord.”

Unsure of how to respond, Sam checked in with Dean to find him equally stunned, his glare shifting between Sam and the woman. When Dean returned his focus to Adria, he spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Sam, something’s wrong with her. She thinks you’re some sort of royalty.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. Adria's fierce hazel stare snapped to Dean as she seethed, “How dare you speak such blasphemy to the King of Hell?”

The world came to a screeching halt as Sam reeled, mind leaping from thought to thought as he tried to keep up. For a moment, he was convinced that this was some sort of elaborate prank set up by Dean and his friend. But Dean's gaping mouth and bulging eyes said more than any denial could.

Sam held his breath as he waited for his tirade, but it never came. A roar of laughter burst from Dean’s wide-open mouth as he clutched his stomach and damn near fell backwards down the stairs. “King of Hell?" he breathed through a gasp as he reached for the railing. His laughter continued as he repeated himself. "King of… of Hell?!" Another peal of laughter filled the entry and Dean double over, hands on his knees. Several awkward seconds passed before he calmed down with a clarifying breath. "Holy shit, that’s a good one. King of Hell. Ha! You…" he paused as a bark of laughter interrupted his thought. “Whew. You really had us going there for a second, lady. What’s up, what are you selling—”

With a blink, Adria's eyes blackened, dark as pitch, then reverted to their natural hazel in another flick of her long lashes. "I am here on official business, Dean Winchester,” she stated.

The flat of Dean's palm slapped Sam across the chest. As he stepped in front of him, he said, “Son of a bitch, she's a demon.”

“I gathered that much," Sam stated flatly. A gentle nudge eased Dean's arm aside, and Sam stepped forward. "What do you wan—”

“Give me one good reason I don’t waste you here and now,” Dean barreled over Sam.

Adria held the small tome out to Dean, but he refused to take it, hands shooting into the air as if she pointed a gun at him. When he refused to move, she turned to Sam. “Hell has been a bit of a mess since Crowley died. Nobody assumed control,” she explained, still holding the book aloft. “When Sam blocked the throne about two years ago, most demons went into hiding. The fucking cowards missed a real opportunity there. I convinced them to align with you,” she finished as she regarded Sam with a smile that looked far too sweet for a demon.

“Align… are you saying that _every_ demon in Hell wants to _follow_ me?” Sam asked.

As though it were as simple as that, Adria shrugged with a nod, then a coy smirk curled her lips. “They always say those Winchester boys are too smart for their own good.”

“Who says that?” Dean barked.

She turned to him, her smile widening. “Demons. Succubi. Incubi. Damned spirits. You know. The denizens of Hell. Word travels fast, and, well you boys have been at it for fifteen years. Got a reputation. Sam’s living up to his.” She paused as she measured Dean head to toe and back. “You… might actually be living up to yours. But I don’t want to report back that the big, bad Dean Winchester froze when handed the Book of Shadows.”

Dean’s arms slowly lowered to his sides as he asked, “Book of Shadows?”

A long, lacquered nail tapped the midnight blue cover.

No. Purple cover.

Black.

Blue.

_Green?!_

“What… is that… that’s not leather,” Sam stuttered.

Her finger traced the Celtic brain encircling the pentagram. “It is. Dragonhide. She gave me a skin from her own flank.”

Sam’s attention snapped to Dean as he stepped forward and said, “She gave you a piece of her skin?!”

Adria’s coy smirk returned. “I asked nicely,” she said as she tapped the metal emblem with her nail.

“And that?” Sam asked as he returned to the book. “That gem.”

“Ah, you have a keen eye, Sam Winchester,” she sighed as she smoothed the stone with her fingertips. “That is a lifestone. It quiets the worried mind, soothes the anxious soul. It’s quite useful for completing contracts.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Contracts?” he growled.

Adria met his glare head on, then opened the book in the middle. “Yes. Contracts. This book contains all current operations that require ongoing management and prospects on which decisions need to be made,” she said as she held it out to him. When neither of them took it, she pointed at a line for them to read.

“I don’t… think that’s a good idea,” Sam started. “That’s—”

“Sam, shut up for a second,” Dean interrupted as he backhanded him in the shoulder. “Look at it.”

Sam did as Dean ordered and as he read, his jaw dropped. A long list of contracts, some initiated and others marked as potential deals, filled the page in a perfect script so tiny that Sam had to lean into read it. Hundreds of names in alphabetical order listed what they had wanted in exchanged for their soul in a set number of years. Some had no year, and Sam’s stomach sickened at the thought of what those poor souls had endured.

“So…” Sam started, “what do you need me to do?”

Adria grabbed Sam’s hand, much to Dean’s ire, and placed the open book in it. “Review each contract, both existing and potential and decide on how to proceed. Existing contracts are always reviewed every year to ensure that they are still beneficial to Hell. If not, we typically collect early to free up crossroad resources. As for potentials, you’ll need to decide if they’re even worth making the deal, as well as their terms and conditions.”

“Where are the—”

“The book has everything you’ll need to decide,” Adria clarified.

Unsure, he glanced at the book, then checked back to Adria. She said nothing, merely smiled again. He returned to the book and, when he flipped to the next page, her statement proved true. Another sheet of paper manifested with more names. He flipped through four pages before he arrived at the existing contracts and their details listed in full. More pages listed terms and conditions. Another ten pages contained the same. Sam gathered the remaining pages and thumbed through them, but no matter how many pages he passed, the book never seemed to progress in either direction.

When he arrived at the potential contracts, Sam stopped. He barely bothered to read the first prospect, then snapped the book shut. A brief thought occurred to him, then he handed the book back to Adria and said, “Burn it.”

Dean snorted a laugh through his nose, then snapped over his mouth. Adria regarded them both before glaring at Sam. “What?”

“I said burn it. I want you to burn the list, the contracts, and that whack-ass fucking book, holy shit, I cannot believe I touched that thing,” he rambled as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Christ, what kind of magic is that, my hands are on fire.”

“The magic of responsibility,” Adria huffed with an air of superiority. “You seriously want me to destroy it?”

“Yes!” Sam shouted. “Get rid of them all! No more deals! No more contracts! Just… give it a fucking rest. Seriously, hell _and heaven_ have done enough damage messing with humans. For once, just do your damn jobs and manage the souls that come to you the only way they should.”

A narrowed glare far too familiar eyed them both before Adria returned the book to the crook of her arm and straightened her spine. Her sweet smile returned as though it had never left. From her purse she fished out a solid black business card and handed it to Sam. He took it, looked it over, and found handwriting matching that of the list in the book detailing her contact information. “So be it. When I require anything further from you, I’ll email you. But in the meantime, if you have questions, my number is also on the card.”

A long, weighing look of Dean, then Sam, preceded her departure.

“Here’s to new beginnings. All hail King Sam, the Lord of Hell. May his reign be long and,” she paused as she eyed him head to toe, “prosperous.”

She turned on her heel and ascended the ladder for the exterior door of the Bunker. Sam turned to check in with Dean only to find him watching Adria climb until the top hatched closed. When Dean found he had been caught staring, he grinned. “I think she likes you.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t rule her out,” Dean added as he turned for the stairs. “Not like it would be the first time you banged a demon…”

“Dean, that’s—”

“I’m not giving you shit,” Dean said as he descended the steps. “She actually seemed pretty cool. You should invite her back over when she emails you. I mean, it sounds like she organized _all_ of Hell to support you. She must think you’re the right person for the job.”

Sam followed him down the stairs, the gears in his mind churning. “She was nice… and she didn’t seem too upset about my very hasty decision to burn that book. I’m not sure was the right thing to do.”

“Pff, gimme a break. You just saved like, thousands of lives, man,” Dean said as he arrived at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to face Sam and clapped him on the shoulder. “We never get it done that easily. And you practically got a girlfriend out of the gig, too.”

“You are so fucking gross sometimes,” Sam sighed. “We—both of us—had a ten-minute conversation with her, she’s not—”

“Sometimes all you need is ten minutes. Even if I’m standing right there. Did you _not_ see the way she looked at you when she left? _All hail King Sam, Lord of Hell_. She eye-fucked the shit out of you.”

No. Regardless of Dean’s teasing, nothing could be worse than a relationship with _another_ demon. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this,” Sam said as he turned for the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

When he skipped down the steps, Dean called after him. “Give me her number! Or that card!”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. He would definitely not be giving Dean her number. Or her email. Or anything of Adria’s for that matter.

A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he regarded her business card once more. No, he thought. He would absolutely be keeping her all to himself.


End file.
